


ego death

by killuatea



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Blood, Gen, Kuroo Week Day 5: Assassin, Violence, character death mention, kuroo week 2020, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26022820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killuatea/pseuds/killuatea
Summary: It was in this lambent light and settled smog that Kuroo Tetsurou found himself again. He blended into the background of rigid black tie balls, carefully scoping out his targets and eliminating them with impeccable timing. It brought him wealth and notoriety within the underworld, but perhaps most importantly, being an assassin- a hitman, if you will- brought Kuroo purpose.[Kuroo is a successful hitman, until he's given a job that tests his morals and resolve.]
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma & Kuroo Tetsurou
Kudos: 11
Collections: Kuroo Week 2020





	ego death

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Kuroo Week! As soon as I saw the assassin prompt, I knew I had to write something. This is my first time exploring anything of this sort, but I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> (I know it's a Kuroo fic but I had to include Bokuaka. As a treat.)

Neon Tokyo. It’s always night time there, the thick fog creating a perfect cover for vicious acts performed in dimly lit alleys. The wealthy wined and dined, fully aware of the game of chess they played with each other. They carefully dance around one another with tight-lipped smiles, plotting their next move up the social ladder, frequently at the cost of another’s life.

It was in this lambent light and settled smog that Kuroo Tetsurou found himself again. He blended into the background of rigid black tie balls, carefully scoping out his targets and eliminating them with impeccable timing. It brought him wealth and notoriety within the underworld, but perhaps most importantly, being an assassin- a hitman, if you will- brought Kuroo purpose. 

This particular night was no different. While the attire of the masquerade ball made picking out the enemy mafia advisor more troublesome than usual, Kuroo was able to effortlessly single out the target and dispose of them with the help of his fellow hitman Bokuto Koutarou, another young man searching for _something, anything._

It was a quick and easy job, just another Tuesday night to him. Deep down, he knew how absolutely fucked up his life was, even if he would never admit it out loud. Kuroo prided himself on how efficiently he could carry out his orders. The only time he ever broke down was behind the locked doors of his penthouse apartment, inebriated and alone. 

The perks of the job were too good to pass up for simple inconveniences such as personal feelings. The money was lavish, the lifestyle, outside of work, could be compared to that of kings, and of course, he could have practically any woman he desired.

Despite all this, Kuroo wouldn’t actually mind it, getting caught. 

The Nekomata family don’s headquarters were never where Kuroo wanted to be early in the morning, but more often than not, it was where he would find himself, sipping bourbon with the elderly man across a large hickory desk. 

“I’ve got a big job for you today, Tetsurou.” the mafia don said through the wrinkled smile that he always seemed to wear, even while talking about the taboo.

“You always say that, sir,” Kuroo countered, following the routine. He readjusted himself in the squeaky leather chair and took another sip of his drink. He always heard that the best way to nurture a hangover was to drink more the next day. Kuroo was starting to believe it. 

Nekomata chuckled. “I mean it this time. The Ukai’s have flown stable for too long. If you succeed here, their downfall is inevitable.” Nekomata stood up and walked towards a cabinet, pulling out a small keyring from his coat pocket to unlock it. The old man sifted through manila folders briefly before pulling out one with significantly less files than the ones Kuroo was used to receiving. 

He slid it across the hickory to meet Kuroo’s outstretched hand. Nekomata allowed him to flip through it before continuing his spheal. 

The first thing Kuroo saw was a simple school photo of the target, who looked fifteen or sixteen at most. Their hair almost reached their shoulders and freckles were scattered across their cheeks. However, it was their quiet demeanor that caught Kuroo’s eye and made his breath hitch. 

Something about this boy reminded Kuroo of him. 

It didn’t seem like that long ago, when Kuroo and Kozume were kids. Kuroo would storm into Kozume’s room asking to play volleyball or hunt for bugs. He always said no, claiming he couldn’t leave his house. Kuroo brought him volleyball tapes and bugs anyways, and even if Kozume didn’t outwardly thank him, Kuroo knew that he was grateful. 

As he got older, Kuroo began to understand why he always had to shower and wash his hands three times before going to visit, and why Kenma couldn’t go explore the outdoors with him. 

Of course it only took one simple fever to take Kozume away from Kuroo.

Of course Kuroo would blame himself. 

It had been a decade since Kuroo lost Kenma, but the pain and regret simmered within him evermore. Some days he could forget about it. Most days he couldn’t. However, as he looked down at the file he was just handed, Kenma’s face was the only thing that came to mind Sure, this Yamaguchi Tadashi kid didn’t really look like Kozume, but maybe it was the way he stood that caught Kuroo’s attention. Maybe it was the way he angled his mouth. Maybe it was in his eyes. Maybe it wasn’t anything at all.

When Kuroo snapped back to reality, Nekomata was already explaining the task. 

“You’ll watch him carefully for about a week. Our spies collected some basic information about his regular commute and locations. We are currently only aware of where he will be next Friday, so you will keep an eye on him until then. That may be your best chance to strike, but of course you will be the judge of that.”

Kuroo, mouth agape, could only nod. He forced his eyes off of the photograph and turned his attention to one of the papers behind it. A high school student, child of the Ukai family don’s brother, third in line for the family business, going to karaoke on Friday with a large group of friends. Kuroo sighed and closed the file, accepting the job and bowing to Nekomata before taking his leave.

For the first time in his career, Kuroo actually wondered if he would be able to succeed.

Anxiety gnawed at the man in a suit and tie, holding a dark umbrella and a briefcase. Kuroo both stood out and blended in, between the waves of high school students and businessmen padding through the damp city streets. He stood alone under a lamp post, watching the boy named Tadashi eat a bowl of udon in a noodle shop across the street.

Kuroo waited a few more minutes before entering the shop himself, ordering ramen and taking a seat close enough to his target to eavesdrop, but far enough to not seem suspicious. Tadashi seemed even more innocent up close. Freckles sprinkled over his entire complexion, gentle curls resting on his forehead. One would never be able to guess the power he had. 

As Kuroo shoveled the meal in his mouth, he heard the boy speak softly to a friend.

“Did you study for the reading exam in Akaashi sensei’s class, Yachi?” Tadashi said, glancing up from his meal to ask his question. Kuroo wasn’t able to hear his friend’s response. He was too busy trying to put a face to the Akaashi name. 

It didn’t take Kuroo long to connect the dots. Bokuto’s fiance- Akaashi Keiji. High school literature teacher at a premiere private academy in Tokyo. The same one that Tadashi was listed under. Of course Akaashi was his teacher. 

Kuroo took another bunch of ramen in his mouth and began to analyze the new information he had gathered. Because of Akaashi and Bokuto’s relationship, Akaashi most likely was aware of Tadashi’s standing as a pawn in the Mafia’s game. If he were to disappear suddenly, Akaashi was intelligent enough to infer why. This would upset him, and in return upset Bokuto, who was very perceptive of other people’s emotions, especially those of his partner. This led to the chance of Bokuto becoming upset with Kuroo. 

Kuroo shuddered at the thought. Bokuto was the person he was closest to nowadays. Despite the nature of their jobs, the two still found time to lead a semi-normal life as friends, going to bars together and playing pick up volleyball on weekends. The idea of losing someone as important to him as Bokuto shook Kuroo to his core. 

Sure, his thinking led him down a rabbit hole of unlikely events, and perhaps Bokuto and Akaashi would understand that _work is work_. Despite this, Kuroo couldn’t bring himself to think about murdering the defenseless boy a few feet away from him. A boy who didn’t ask to be born to a mafia member. A boy who, as far as Kuroo knew, just wanted to live a normal high schooler’s life. A boy who didn’t deserve the circumstances life gave him. _Much like Kozume._

Kuroo drank the rest of the broth from his bowl and exited the shop, popping open his umbrella and heading home. He would try again another day.

The pulsating lights and heavy bass of the dance club gave Kuroo a headache. He had promised to assist Bokuto on his job, but if he knew about the location and situation, he would have passed. He much preferred the slight musk of bars to the stench of sweat from the constant dancing at a nightclub. 

However, the very place he dreaded was where Bokuto would need to make his kill. Kuroo was there to make sure nothing went wrong. He was grateful he wasn’t spending the night on his own job, since the events that transpired the day before left Kuroo with an odd feeling he couldn’t quite shake. 

Kuroo followed Bokuto through the mass of bodies, the latter weaving in and out of the crowd so swiftly that Kuroo found it difficult to keep up. Bokuto was incredible at his job, perhaps even more so than Kuroo. The silver haired man was able to carry out the job quickly, without much fuss. Although, Kuroo recalled, Bokuto did let his emotions get the better of him sometimes, whether it be before or after a job. Despite this, he could pick himself and carry on.

Kuroo knew the question he had to ask, he just didn’t know if he had the guts to do so.

It had been at least half a decade since Kuroo met Bokuto. Out of everyone in the Nekomata family business, Bokuto was the only person he would actually consider laying his life down for. Trust wasn’t something that Kuroo did often, but Bokuto made it easy. His intentions were always genuine, if he liked you, he said so. If he didn't, well, he made sure you knew that too. 

When Kuroo first found out that Bokuto had a partner, to say he was surprised was an understatement. Kuroo tried to put himself in Bokuto’s position. A successful hitman, with multiple targets on his back, out late most nights, _murdering people_ , had someone who loved him despite this. Kuroo couldn’t imagine himself in the same shoes. At least, not now. 

However, the more he got to know Bokuto, the more he understood. Despite his career choice, Bokuto exuded positive energy. And perhaps, that’s what made him so god damn good at his job. _No one would suspect that he’s the one behind the gun._

The paradox that was Bokuto Koutaro intrigued Kuroo. And perhaps this enigma would help him get out of the hole he had dug himself.

“Bo,” Kuroo reached out to tap Bokuto’s shoulder, but hesitated. When Bokuto didn’t respond, likely because of the volume of the music, Kuroo huffed to himself and spoke up.

“Bokuto,” Kuroo started, opting to drop the nickname he normally used. Bokuto whipped around and faced Kuroo, worried that something was wrong. 

Before Bokuto had a chance to speak, Kuroo began.

“Have you ever hesitated to complete a job?” he asked, voice faltering. This was unlike him, to admit vulnerability, especially in such circumstances. Normally, these sorts of conversations were saved for when the two were tipsy on cheap beer and walking to their apartments from the bar.

But there Kuroo was, opening himself up to what might as well be his best friend during an assassination attempt, in the middle of a nightclub, nonetheless.

Bokuto’s eyes widened, but he remained silent, looking for the answers. Kuroo waited patiently, standing sturdy and taking the pushes and shoves he received from the clubbers. 

“Probably, yeah. But then I have to remind myself that I’m just working. Much like a businessman or a shop owner.”

Kuroo tilted his head, trying to follow. Bokuto caught on and continued his explanation. “Unfortunately, we all need money to survive. And this is how we survive. I’ve learned to detach myself from it, in a way. This all seems normal to me now.”

“Detach yourself, huh.” Kuroo said to himself. 

“Why’d you ask?” Bokuto inquired. Kuroo just shook his head.

“Just a random thought.”

His apartment seemed loneliest in the mornings. At night Kuroo could fall asleep to a movie or song, drifting off and thinking about something totally unrelated, but in the mornings, Kuroo was greeted by silence. Perhaps Kuroo didn’t mind. 

Except this specific day was the day he had planned to assassinate Tadashi. This specific morning, the silence was deafening. Kuroo searched desperately for a distraction, a movie, a radio show, the sound of an air conditioner, anything. Anything to get his mind off of the task at hand. 

He noticed his hands shaking ever so slightly, even without the rush of caffeine in his veins. He looked down to the coffee he was brewing and sighed. He needed more time, and there was only one way to get it. 

Another morning spent in a leather chair, staring down a hickory desk. Nekomata’s smile didn’t fade, but his tone changed enough to discomfort Kuroo. It wasn’t anger, no, it was more like disappointment, the kind a father might feel towards his son. Somehow, it hurt Kuroo even more. 

“I don’t think that’s a possibility, Tetsurou. From what I’ve heard, the boy has been training nightly with his father to do the very thing you are. We never know when he’ll be ready. Right now we have the advantage, and we need to deal with it.”

Kuroo stiffened. He couldn’t argue with the man. He wouldn’t dare. He spent years working to take Nekomata’s eyes off his back, and he didn’t dare want it back. He would be dead before he even had a chance to react. 

Kuroo only agreed and apologized before leaving, promising to complete the job on time. Every fiber in his being was telling him to turn around and fight, but he knew he had to save face and swallow his pride. He needed to stay the man that Nekomata thought he was, a cold and skilled assassin. Maybe that’s all he could ever be. 

Tadashi was exactly where Kuroo’s sources said he would be on Friday night. It was clear this time, much unlike the first time Kuroo saw him. This time, Bokuto was with him, repaying the favor Kuroo granted him a few nights before. 

The plan seemed simple. Bokuto would pose as a member of the Ukai family mafia, and lead Tadashi out of the building, where Kuroo would take his shot. Bokuto would silence him in case Kuroo missed, and catch him to hop immediately in the car parked outside the alley. 

They’d done this hundreds of times before. This time would be no different. Or at least that’s what Kuroo told himself, over and over again. 

_Detach yourself._

Bokuto signaled to Kuroo from down the alleyway that he was entering the karaoke bar. Kuroo put the silencer on his pistol, his shaking hands making the process more difficult. He slapped his palms onto his cheeks as hard as he could.

_Snap out of it. Just get the job done._

He took a deep breath as he heard the chime of the door open a second time a few minutes later. He knew it would be Bokuto, and if he was successful, Tadashi would be there too. He aimed down the alleyway, the suffocating darkness concealing his intentions.

As planned, Bokuto led a confused Tadashi to the car, conveniently parked in front of the alley where Kuroo waited. Tadashi looked around, obviously nervous.

Tadashi unknowingly made eye contact with Kuroo. No, it was like he _knew_ Kuroo was there. 

_Just do the damn job._

Kuroo turned the safety off, hands steady now. _Take the fucking shot, you coward._

It was only when he pulled the trigger when he saw Kozume in the boy’s eyes again. 

He missed. When Kuroo came back to his senses, Bokuto was covering Tadashi’s mouth as he cried out in pain, while struggling to open the car door. Kuroo stood up quickly and ran over to the two, taking Tadashi out of Bokuto’s arms and throwing himself and the boy into the backseat, Bokuto himself hopping in the driver's seat and accelerating. 

Bokuto didn’t say anything to Kuroo. He didn’t need to. 

Once they were a safe enough distance from the city, Kuroo uncovered Tadashi’s mouth. He didn’t say anything immediately, just let out a small sob.

“It hurts-” he choked out. Kuroo looked away, eyes brimming with guilt. 

“I’m turning on the car light, Bo.” Kuroo said, doing so. Bokuto nodded, remaining silent. Perhaps he was expecting this to happen.

Kuroo inspected Tadashi’s wound, blood from his right arm soaking through Kuroo’s dress shirt. He quickly ripped the sleeve off of his suit coat and used it to stop the bleeding. Tadashi whined as he tightened it.

However, for some odd reason, Tadashi didn’t seem mad at them. He just laid silent on Kuroo’s lap, taking deep breaths and sniffling, wincing every once in a while.

“Bo, go to Yaku’s.” Kuroo commanded. 

“Already on it.” Bokuto replied, turning left. Kuroo turned the car light off and let himself cry silently.

He’d failed. He let his emotions get the best of him, and now this kid was suffering more than he ever should have. If only he’d been stronger. Maybe if he quit…

“I knew this would, _ow_ , happen eventually.” the boy in Kuroo’s arms spoke quietly. Kuroo looked down, Tadashi staring off into space. Kuroo sighed loudly.

“I didn’t want to, kid. I really didn’t. But-”

“I know. I just wish, _owww_ , that I was born to a normal family. I didn’t…” Tadashi drifted off in thought. 

“You didn’t ask for any of it,” Kuroo finished. The silence in the air confirmed that he was right. 

“I… We’re taking you to an underground doctor. You’re going to be alright. I’ll… I’ll tell my boss you’re dead. No one should bother you afterwards.” Kuroo continued. 

Bokuto pulled up to a quaint house in the countryside. The doctor, Yaku, was standing outside, ready for whatever Bokuto brought. Kuroo helped move Tadashi out. 

“Patch him up and let him go.” Kuroo told Yaku, who nodded.

“No questions asked.” the doctor confirmed.

Tadashi leaned onto Yaku and hung his head. 

Kuroo took a step forward, but stopped. There wasn’t much he could say that would help the situation. Apologizing definitely wouldn’t do it.

“Hey kid-” he started, calling out to the pair slowly making their way to the house. They stopped, and Tadashi turned his head slightly. 

“Go live a normal life, after all this.”

Tadashi paused for a moment, then nodded.

Kuroo thought he caught a small smile.

Bokuto and Kuroo agreed to tell Nekomata that the target was eliminated, but they forgot to get evidence of his death. Luckily, Nekomata had enough trust in the both of them to let it go, only scolding them for twenty minutes. 

Bokuto never mentioned the occasion ever again, for which Kuroo was grateful. Things went back to normal a few weeks later, after Kuroo turned down the next couple jobs to take a “vacation”. 

During his break, he considered quitting, finding someone like Bokuto found Akaashi, and settling down. Surprisingly, the thought didn’t excite him as much as the idea of eliminating mafia scum. He had to admit to himself that he loved the thrill of his job, though he vowed that he would never kill someone unless they deserved it- and many mafia officials did. He could settle down some other time. 

Perhaps an underworld assassin was all he would ever amount to. And perhaps, for once, Kuroo was okay with that.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: https://twitter.com/killuatea


End file.
